Escape The Heir
by Mr. Gutgebiet
Summary: After being forced to share his secluded spot with Spain, Russia realizes that Spain isn't all that bad. But when offered to spend a few days together, Russia becomes more than suspicious yet grows closer to Spain than he could ever know. However, money talks, and something looms on the sidelines; something that throws Russia into the world's limelight, for all the wrong reasons.


**Wiktor**: Hallo and thank you for choosing to read this fanfiction. This is a request that I have taken, so I hope it will bring happiness to both that person and others who choose to indulge in this piece. A few quick notes before we begin; please note the rating of this fic. Persons under eighteen should not be reading, though I cannot stop you if you are under age. This is rated as such for the following: Adult themes, sexual themes, violence/mention of crime, mild smoking, mild drinking, and mild language. Please enjoy, and review if you read. Danke.

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><p><strong>An additional note:<strong> I am consistently working on another Hetalia fanfiction as well called _The Ivory Blacksmith_, so this will share equal time with that one. I will try to balance my time accordingly. I love crack pairings, so I take requests and, like I said, I have another one that I am also working on. Also, my first language was German. If you find any English mistakes, feel free to tell me and I will promptly fix them.

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><p>"I hate it here. I absolutely hate it." Iran mumbled, taking a sip from his drink before setting the cup down on the table with a soft clink. "I hate <em>him<em>."

Russia shrugged a bit. "America? He is not bad."

At the response, Iran leaned forward, disrupting Kazakhstan, who slumbered quietly next to him. "What do you mean 'not bad?'" He growled. "What has happened to you old man? Have you forgotten what he has done to you and your people all those years ago? He's a menace!"

Russia yawned indifferently and rested his chin in his palm. "Keep your voice down and know your place, Iran." He warned. "These are new times, and we must," he paused, searching for the correct word, "adapt."

"Would you two stop bickering?" Kazakhstan muttered, sitting up and flashing Iran a stern watch. "We are already the outcasts here in New York, we do not want to draw suspicion." He groaned and popped his fingers. "My old bones are begging to return home. I cannot keep up with these young Americans." He gestured to the sea of young couples swarming the lobby of the hotel, fraught with exhilaration for autographs from the numerous weary countries. "Conferences like these are growing unnecessary."

Iran leaned back in his seat and waved a hand. "It is all politics." He spat crossly.

Russia sighed and retrieved Iran's drink from the table, examining it. "Do you have a problem with politics?" He asked simply. "Politics are our lives, no?"

"Well, of course!" Iran didn't seem so sure with his answer. "I-I just hate dealings with that America. He is too young and immature to accomplish anything, and he never takes anyone else's culture into account!"

Russia nodded slowly, taking a sip from Iran's glass and wrinkling his nose at the offensively overpowering stench. The whisky was cheap and poorly made, leaving a foul after taste in his mouth. He replaced the glass to the table and glanced up, examining Iran's face. He looked just as young as the rest of them, but was so much older than he appeared. Too bad he didn't act his age.

"You are like him." Russia pointed out. "Young in the face but reckless in your heart. It is you who is closed to all things different."

Kazakhstan chuckled at the look of utter alarm on Iran's face. "He is right. You have no prospects of making any deals with America because _he_ is different from _you_. It is a game that we all have to play."

Iran jumped up and took a deep breath, forming his fingers to fists. "You two are no different! Historically you have both been the same. We are bound together and you two know it!" He began to leave, but stopped, running his hand over his face angrily. He jabbed a finger at Russia, who blinked up at him with false innocence. "You tell me to know my place when you cannot find yours. You have no friends. You are lost, your people are lost, and you will eventually fall alone!" With that, he spun on his heel and ventured off into the crowd, disappearing into a crowd of giddy young women and teen boys.

"Oh, old friend, you have done it this time." Kazakhstan half chuckled, standing as well. "You cause the man so much angst; let me speak to him before he says or does something he will regret." He fixed his glasses on the bridge of his nose before extending a hand.

Russia warmly returned the handshake, grinning up at his friend. "I will be expecting an angry letter from his administration in a week." He joked lightheartedly, letting go and smoothing the collar of his dress jacket. "Good luck. You will need it, yes?"

Kazakhstan said nothing. Instead he shook his head teasingly and took off at a free pace on Iran's tail. Russia watched him go, smiling softly to himself when Kazakhstan was stopped by a group of scatterbrained blonde women begging for his signature in their tiny collection books. How could the others stand all this attention? Russia was thankful that he had found a secluded corner to himself this time around. All of touching and bumping made him nervous and set his hand instinctively to his gun, though he would never pull the trigger. At least he didn't think he would. He turned on the vinyl of his seat and scanned the crowd for the others, curious to see how they were managing. Almost immediately, he made fleeting eye contact with England, who had gone stiff as a board as he greeted the excited group of tourists. He didn't appear to be enjoying himself either, slowly making his way to the edge of the crowd, each of his escape plots foiled by eager handshakes. The Italy brothers seemed to be fighting the social war with zeal, taking pictures and doling out hugs, though some reluctantly. In fact they both, surprisingly, appeared to be loving every second of the attention. Russia had been all too sure that Lovino would have had to step outside by now, but he seemed to be a master at talking with women, judging by the two stunning gems on his shoulders. Lucky man. Russia sighed. No matter how much he loathed tourists hanging off of his arms, he did long for a bit of consideration. It was like a fine drink if taken in moderation. If not, however, it would wind you up drunk off your top and fatigued. Russia shrugged off the thought with a yawn. Ah, well; it was better to keep to one's self any how.

"Mind if I sit?"

Russia didn't have time to react, freezing in his thoughts as he felt a slight weight plop down directly next to him. He had fought long and hard for solitude, all to have it disrupted? Now, with the addition of one tourist, it was only a matter of time before the others found him. He stared at his lap and swallowed, not wanting to start a conversation, but feeling the urge to jump up and take his leave. Of course, he couldn't be impolite; as a country he was expected to behave smoothly in public. But he couldn't very well open up and jump about like a cheery school boy at the thought of meeting new people. Damn, was he was conflicted. Russia bit his lip; what on earth could he say?

"Are you alright?"

Russia knew this voice. Vaguely, but he recognized the silky accent, though he could not pinpoint where from. Finally, he took a deep breath and glanced to the side, allowing himself to relax in his spot when he realized who it was. Thank God it wasn't a tourist, but this was equally perplexing. It was…_Spain?  
><em>  
>Spain cleared his throat, restating his question. "Are you alright?" This time he spoke slower, making sure that Russia had understood him.<p>

Quickly, Russia's gaze snapped up as he pulled himself out of his state of bemusement, collecting himself as fast as he could. He pasted a smile on his face and grinned in the usual manner, giving a quick nod.

"Yes." Was all he could say. He had never really cared for Spain's happy-go-lucky demeanor and, as far as he knew, Spain had never cared much for him either. So, what did he want with him now?

Spain smiled. "Sorry that I'm bothering you, but you are sitting near the only free outlet." He pointed around Russia at the wall and held up his phone with a gawky laugh. "It died and I'd like to plug it in."

Russia tensed up when Spain stood and planted himself on his other side, reaching down to connect his device to the wall. Why couldn't he just go to his hotel room? Russia stood to leave, but was stopped when Spain piped up once more.

"Where are you going?" He asked, his natural inquisitiveness shining through the sincerity of his tone. "Do you not want to stay?"

Russia blinked and watched him a moment, examining his face. He didn't appear uneasy anymore, but more genuinely interested in Russia as a whole. He was probably bored, Russia had determined. Spain would talk to anyone when he was bored. The Devil himself could come forth from the depths of Hell and Spain would strike up conversation with him like they were brothers. Still, Russia was caught off guard, and didn't know what to say to his kindness. It had been a long while since Russia had interacted with someone outside of his administration and former ownership, and he didn't really possess the social adequacy needed to get through a conversation as such. Gradually, he lowered himself back down into his seat. This didn't feel right; there had to be something that Spain wanted from him. No way would he just pull him into a fit of casual small talk for nothing.

Satisfied, Spain grinned, setting his phone aside and pointing at Russia's tattered scarf. "Your sister told me she gave that to you." He began. "How long have you had it?"

Russia eased himself into the conversation, still wary of his colleague's motives, but interested in how much Ukraine had told the others about him. "Since we were children." He explained softly, careful not to reveal too much. "Ukraine carried it through the snow for years before it became mine."

"She must have loved you much to give up something that special!" Spain replied. "I wish I had siblings. I lived with a human family when I was very young, until my early council took me away you see." He paused, and then quickly continued. "I had two brothers then, until they died. They didn't die early, they were just human. I guess Romano counted as a little brother when I looked after him, but he's grown up. We're just friends now."

Russia nodded slowly in understanding. "I had a family too before I found out I was a country. My two sisters, Ukraine and Belarus, and several other children. My older sister knew what we were, but she never told me. Eventually, my family died away as well, and I left."

Spain leaned forward a bit, interested. "Oh, yes?" He shrugged. "You cannot blame her for that."

"What?"

"For not telling you. She probably wanted to protect you, yes? It is scary for children to find out something like that."

Russia thought a moment. He had never seen it that way; for years he had dethatched himself from his sister due to feeling of concentrated treachery, but now her motives were so apparent. How could he not have seen? He exhaled and finally returned Spain's smile, unhurriedly at first, then with mounting gusto. He was definitely sharper than Russia had remembered him; for years he had thought there was something psychologically wrong with the man. But now, he was beginning to realize that he wasn't all that bad. Too positive for his own good, but not bad indeed.

Over the course of the next few hours, the two swapped stories from the past, eventually drawing a crowd of other drained countries to their growing laughter. Russia hadn't been this entertained in many a year as he ran through tales of his many leaders and their hilarious mistakes and the dreadful scare he had put himself through getting lost on an exploration near the arctic circle. Spain countered with his own recollections of his wonderful life at sea and how he missed the rocking of the ocean, and how ironic it was that he couldn't swim for most of his life, almost drowning twice and having been saved once by a shipmate and once by Portugal at a local lake. He was much more interesting than Russia thought he was, once he had opened up more, and was, as much as Russia didn't want to admit, fairly fun to be around. It was strange though; he had never thought the two would ever share this much enjoyment together. But, a man had once told him that friends could be found anywhere and in all kinds of people. Even people as exasperating and unusual as Spain.

After a while, many fell asleep and exchanged goodbyes, retiring to their rooms, much to Russia's displeasure. However, through all of the thick yawns and heavy lidded gazes, Spain continued to listen with the exhilaration of a child, waiting in anticipation for each syllable Russia graced him with. Finally, when Russia had no more to say, he searched through his memories, but found nothing. He knew this rare event would have to end; everyone left would leave and would never talk with him again. He could feel his chest grow heavy when he noticed Spain stretch with fatigue and retrieve his things from the wall, turning back to glance at the sleeping others.

"You know," He whispered at his leisure, making sure no one was awake and listening in, "Everyone told me never to talk to you." He admitted, waiting for Russia to respond.

Russia raised an eyebrow and chuckled. The world could be so vindictive. "I hope I have surprised you. " He swallowed, afraid that this may have been the signal he had been hoping to avoid.

Spain nodded. "I've surprised myself. I didn't think I would ever like you." He confessed.

Russia felt his breath catch in his chest. Spain was so…kind to everyone. He didn't know what to say, or if he should be insulted by such an inconsiderate yet sympathetic remark. That meant that Spain really had blindly reviled him before, just like everyone else, but it felt overwhelmingly incredible to know he had changed his mind so abruptly. Russia felt himself beam widely and tried to hide it, but couldn't bring himself to stop. Instead he placed a hand over his mouth, concealing his cheerfulness with his pale fingers and hoping Spain wouldn't ask about it.

"Anyway," Spain stood, feeling accomplished, and reached into his pocket, fumbling for a minute before pulling a box from the fabric. He tugged it open and offered Russia a cigarette. "I don't know if you smoke."

Russia pushed himself up and stretched, willing the stiffness from his limbs, before taking the tube between his fingers. "Sometimes; It couldn't hurt." He mumbled, chuckling at the mound of exhausted countries slumped over one another, snoring lightly. "How sweet; they are like children." He joked, earning a laugh from Spain before following him to the front of the hotel.

Outside, the New York air was frigid and murky, the vivid lights of the buildings and many boards giving the impression of a counterfeit daylight to the surrounding atmosphere. It didn't bother Russia near as much as it did Spain, who immediately began to shudder in the chilly wind, rubbing his hands together in a desperate attempt for warmth. Russia shook his head in amusement and drew a lighter from his coat pocket, igniting the flame and lighting his cigarette before offering the lighter to Spain, who took it gladly with a quick thanks.

Russia brought the roll to his lips and inhaled deeply, waiting courteously for a crowd of American night walkers to move out of the way before exhaling and watching his smoke curl up into the air.

Spain coughed next to him and huddled as best as he could into the side of the building. "I really should quit." He sighed as a hollow promise to himself. He knew he wouldn't.

Russia took another puff and shrugged. "Why? We cannot die from it." He pointed out. "It isn't like financial collapse."

"I guess." Spain mumbled back, flicking his ash to the sidewalk with a finger, giving a soft smile. "New York never sleeps, does it?"

Russia shook his head, choosing to remain ever silent. The city never really did, reminding him of his busy capitol back in the heart of his own country. He missed home; it killed him being away for as long as he was. But all of this traveling never allowed him to settle. There was always a political convention or a rally that called for his attendance, though he seldom spoke at them anymore, and it had become pointless for him to even show up. They were boring opportunities for the world's leaders to show off the whites of their teeth in photos, hoping to fool the ignorant global citizens into thinking that treaties and alliances had been formed. No one was friends with anyone else anymore; maybe with the exception of Lithuania and Poland. Russia laughed to himself; of course they didn't get along nowadays, but they had used to so well. He forced his glare to the ground when he remembered how he missed Lithuania so. The man would never know how deeply Russia had cared for him, and he knew that Lithuania never believed that he had once felt so strongly for him. If only he could have another chance to prove it. Russia glanced up and across the street at a group of police officers, all adorning crisp ties, talking and laughing together as friends. He blinked slowly and tore his gaze away. He would never have that chance again. Not just with Lithuania, but with anyone. Russia had come to peace with this, however. It didn't bother him nearly as much as it once had.

Spain placed a palm lightly on Russia's shoulder, making him jump. He had almost forgotten that he was there. "You like to think, don't you?" Spain asked tenderly.

Russia quickly nodded and took another puff from his cigarette. "Yes. It helps me see the things others cannot."

"Like what?" Spain asked inquisitively, leaning his back against the stone of the hotel then quickly standing upright at its cold touch.

Once again, Russia found himself without words. Spain was bizarre, taking his wits away from him like he did. He wasn't quite sure what it was about him that allowed him such a power, but he made Russia second guess every thought that had fluttered into his mind in the past couple of hours. It was more than maddening, but revitalizing in the same breath. It was nice to know that someone was willing to ask questions of him.

"Like how I really hate the cold." He lied, hoping to lead Spain off of the trail of what was truly bothering him. "It is not winter here and it is still cold."

"A big bear like you? I thought you loved the snow!" Spain exclaimed with a laugh, batting Russia lightly in the arm with his free hand. He glanced to the side then looked back, smiling a little. "What kind of climate _do_ you like?"

Russia thought for a few moments before speaking. "Warm enough to grow flowers, but cool enough so I won't sweat away." He explained slowly, describing his dream destination. "The people are nice and love talking to me," he looked up as he thought, "and it doesn't rain every day, but on the days it does I get to sleep in a nice, clean bedroom with many windows. That way I can watch it rain while I lay around."

"Is it near the ocean?" Spain pressed in anticipation.

Russia could feel his excitement boiling in his chest as he envisioned such a perfect paradise. "Yes. Of course it is. I could go to the beach when I want, but I don't like the sand…So I probably won't."

"Oh." Spain whispered, twiddling his thumbs and inspecting the black laces of Russia's polished dress shoes. "What you need is a vacation!" he exclaimed suddenly.

"Vacation?" Russia nearly doubled over at the suggestion. "No, no. I don't have time for that."

"Oh, come on! That's crazy! Everyone has time for _some_ fun." Spain countered. It was clear he wasn't going to let Russia win.

Russia sighed but didn't lose his smile. "I really don't have the time. None of us do. There is too much." He restated, hoping Spain would quit pressuring him.

Spain, however, continued on strong. "You have to visit the Mediterranean! It has everything you told me you wanted."

"I said I was busy. I have too much to do."

"I can fix that! I insist you visit."

"And where do you 'insist' that I go?"

Spain held up a finger. "Why don't you visit España?" He offered thoughtfully. "I can find you a spare room, and you can stay for a few days!"

Russia had officially had enough. Spain was being thoroughly ridiculous! They hadn't been friends that long, and now Russia was being hustled and rushed into a vacation he hadn't agreed to? Not likely. Russia shook his head and finished off his cigarette, chucking the butt into the ash tray neighboring the door.

"I said no, and I mean it." Russia stated decisively. He turned, brushing past Spain and pushing his way back inside. He wasn't about to let Spain see how uncomfortable this was making him; he had to remain composed and collected. It was imperative; show little emotion.

Spain frowned and followed. Damn, he was persistent!

"Why not?" He asked, falling into step with Russia.

"Because I do not know you well." Russia stammered a little, growing a bit uneasy at Spain's outlandish level of perseverance. "It isn't wise to offer vacations to people you do not know."

Spain shrugged as though the thought of having a strange country in his home didn't bother him in the slightest. "That's how you make new friends!" He retaliated.

"You're not the only one I have offered to stay with me. I like to help people relax!" He stopped in front of Russia, cutting him off in his tracks and forcing him to swallow his nerves. "Let me see; America, Italy and Romano, Croatia and Germany have all stayed with me recently. Ask any of them, they all love spending time in my capitol!"

Russia held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back as Spain continued to talk away about how therapeutic his country could be. Why wouldn't he go away already? "F-Fine. That sounds lovely!" Russia finally blurted out, giving up.

Spain blinked and grinned a toothy smile, moving forward and wrapping Russia in a much unneeded hug. "I knew you would agree! I will see you in the morning, and we can discuss when you come!" He released Russia from the tight hug and turned, taking a deep breath and clapping his hands together softly. "Hasta mañana. (See you tomorrow)."

Russia shrugged. He had no idea what that meant, but it he could tell by inflection that it was most likely a satisfying goodbye. He swallowed and raised a hand to wave, but Spain had already turned, taking off at a leisure bouncy pace to the hallway before disappearing from sight. Finally, Russia could allow his shoulders to slump and his smile to fade. What a strange person. He was very kind, but oh-so pushy. If he kept all of that up, he wouldn't have many friends left! Russia blinked to himself in realization. Wait…did he even have many friends?

"That was weird, Ivan."

Russia turned at the sound of Kazakhstan's voice, his old friend approaching him with his usual limp from across the room. "Ah, yes. He is a weird one."

Kazakhstan wrinkled his nose and shook his head. His face was flooded with an emotion that Russia couldn't identify. It appeared to maybe be pity. "Poor man must be desperate for attention. Not that your gaze is bad." He added quickly, hoping to offset his somewhat rude comment. "He is lucky to have won it, though I must say," he paused and looked Russia over suspiciously, "how did he catch your attention? To go as far as to stay with him?" Kazakhstan rolled his head back and chuckled dryly. "You barely know the boy!"

Russia nodded, but didn't answer. Instead he patted Kazakhstan gently on the back before taking his leave. "Goodnight, Erasyl."

Kazakhstan swallowed and narrowed his eyes, qualms and aggravation growing. "Yes. Goodnight, indeed."

Russia didn't look back at the sound of Kazakhstan's sharp, irritated tone. It was none of his business where he was to go or who he was to affiliate with; if anything, Russia had more power over Kazakhstan than the other way around. However, the more he thought of this rash decision to leave with Spain, the more his doubt weighed upon him. He was seldom invited out by anyone due to the recklessness of his administration during the past year in Ukraine. The world saw him as a threat, not a friend. But, somehow, Spain had seen past that. Russia swallowed and made his way to the elevator, joining in with Israel, who nodded a silent greeting.

"Are you going up?" Israel asked, finger hovering over the buttons.

"Yes. Seven." Russia stated simply, making his way to the back corner and leaning against the metal when Israel pressed for his floor.

"I saw that you were having fun with Spain earlier." Israel pointed out, trying to take the awkward silence from the air. "Nice man, Antonio is."

Russia blinked to himself. Did no one not see them together? It was like the whole world had been watching him. "Yes."

"Mhm." Israel pursed his lips, not sure of what to say next. Instead he turned and exited the shaft with a quick goodnight, leaving Russia alone once more.

"Goodnight to you." Russia mumbled under his breath after the doors had closed.

He began to ponder what Israel had called Spain. He could not recall ever hearing his name spoken allowed before, and it felt strange to hear. He wondered if Spain even knew his name. Russia smiled a bit and adjusted his tie. Probably not; it was not expected of him to remember. Why should he?

"Antonio." Russia whispered to himself, stepping out into the hallway of his level and leaving the silent comfort of the elevator. He glanced down the corridor and noticed America conversing sweetly with Japan, the two hand in hand as they exchanged their final goodnight. Russia turned the other way when America bent down, kissing Japan lightly on the forehead, slowly moving to his lips. He could not stand to see the two. Did they not understand that the world had no support to give to their relationship? Yet still they kept on…and there was something to be said for persistence, no matter how wrong everyone thought they were. Suddenly, an idea flooded over Russia. No one seemed to approve of him forming a friendship with Spain either. At least not anyone he had talked with recently. Sure, he didn't have a relationship with the man, nor did he want one for that matter, but knowing this was a chance to openly defy those who had wronged him felt too good an opportunity to pass. He knew the world as a whole thought he would never make friends, and this was a wonderful chance to finally prove them all wrong. He would become such good friends with Spain that the world wouldn't know what to do with itself. Still, Russia couldn't shake the eerie feeling that radiated from his new found acquaintance. There was something nefarious skirting through the sidelines, and he would have to keep his guard up, no matter what the cost.

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><p><span><strong>Wiktor<strong>: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. It was long, and I apologize. Please review if you read, and thank you for your support. Danke.


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